Beyond the Point(55)
“I don’t usually bring my guns to interviews,” Dani said. Laura Klein stared back blankly—apparently the British didn’t follow American sarcasm. “I’m kidding. They took the guns away.”
“What’d I tell you?” Jim said, addressing his colleague. “She’s quick.”
With a confused chuckle, Laura took a seat on one of the sofas.
“When did they start letting in your kind, Dani?” Jim asked.
Dani clenched her teeth to keep her jaw from dropping open. Her kind? “West Point admitted females in 1976, sir,” she replied evenly. “Its first African-American in 1870.”
“Well aren’t you the double threat?” Laura remarked, taking a sip from her Evian water bottle.
“Triple,” Dani said. “I’m also handicapped.”
Jim laughed again. “Mark said I’d like you. Here, take a seat!”
Dani smiled and tried to hit her internal reset button. Jim Webb had made some strange comments—so had Laura—but Dani had heard worse. One awkward moment shouldn’t ruin her chances at a great job opportunity.
“About that handicap. Now that you’ve brought it up,” Jim continued, “I can legally ask. You just graduated this spring, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So why aren’t you out there fighting the Taliban?”
He said it like a Southerner—Tally-ban. As if they were an Afghan tribe that prohibited taking a count of anything. But it was a valid question. One that divided people into two clear groups: the people who genuinely cared about Dani’s condition, and the people who secretly thought she’d invented an ailment to avoid the war. She couldn’t tell which camp Jim fell into, but if nothing else, she appreciated his candor.
For a moment, she wondered how much of the story she should tell. Should she start at Beast, when she felt a twinge in her hip while trying to qualify with her rifle? Or fast-forward to Buckner, when her hip had snapped brutally while she carried Locke uphill? Should she recount the surgery? Or the moment the doctor had presented an X-ray showing the ligaments in her pelvis frayed like rope, white and fuzzy against the light? She could tell him she’d led the women’s basketball team to a winning season her junior year—scoring more points than any female player in academy history. But that was a rabbit trail. Most important was the crack she’d heard while leading plebes on the thirteen-mile ruck march back to campus from basic training, when she was a Firstie. Once again, the X-ray blurred white, telling her everything she needed to know. Another surgery. Another round of rehab. Wendy sat next to Dani in April of her senior year, eight weeks before graduation, when a look of dismay appeared on her doctor’s face. He shook his head, presented Dani with a form. Medical Release.
It was the longest story she’d ever lived, but the shortest way to tell it was to speak the truth.
“I’d always had aches and pains while at West Point. But, as you can imagine, I thought that came with the territory. I was running sprints and lifting weights with the basketball team. I did all the rucks. All the training. I had a few back spasms, here and there. But my health devolved.
“The doctors kept thinking I was tearing ligaments. There were surgeries. Two actually, one my sophomore year, and one my senior year. I thought I’d recover in time for graduation, but after that second surgery, I ended up getting a second opinion, and the civilian doctor said I shouldn’t have had the surgeries in the first place. It was never a torn ligament—it was chronic arthritis.”
“Arthritis? Isn’t that something grannies have?” Laura Klein asked.
“Grannies and me,” Dani said with more kindness than this Klein lady deserved. “The long and short of it is, I probably should never have been admitted to West Point. After that, my fate was sealed. I appealed it. But there was no way I was going to receive a commission. I was medically discharged the day after graduation.”
“Well.” Jim sighed. “That’s quite a story. Although, you may have dodged a bullet. I’m not sure women should really be on the front lines anyway.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure there are ‘front lines’ anymore, sir,” said Dani.
“True enough. The good news is, in the corporate world, women have been my best assets. In my experience, women have more integrity. They’re better listeners. Better multitaskers. Women don’t let their ego drive decisions. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, sir, I think I do,” said Dani.
Laura smiled, looking content with Jim’s shower of compliments on their gender.
“A man earns a little money,” Jim continued, “he makes a few good decisions, and he kicks back, thinks he’s infallible. Like it’s going to come easy. When a woman gets some success, it’s never enough. She’s already looking for the next challenge. All I’m saying is if I see two equally qualified people, I’d choose the woman every time.”
Dani nodded. In some ways she agreed with him. She’d seen more than enough male ego at West Point to last her a lifetime. And sure enough, she was hungry for the next challenge. If her time at West Point had taught her anything, it was that she wanted to do something with her life that mattered.
“Your credentials are quite impressive,” Laura said, picking up where Jim had left off. She looked down her narrow nose at a piece of paper Dani assumed was her résumé. “NCAA athlete, ranked in the top fifteen percent of your class. Somehow, you maintained high physical performance scores despite your condition, so I know you have a high pain tolerance. That counts in this profession, believe it or not. You have to have thick skin.”